RE: mastodon.social/@DrALJONES/115…

New Zealand is a vassal state of the U.S.

Militarily and 5eyes intertwined, NZ is a launch pad for military satellites and hosts US spy bases. In 2016 NZ resumed receiving US military ships and vessels and in choosing to not ask if they're nuclear-powered or capable, avoided acknowledging the Nuclear-Free legislation. The FBI recently opened an office in Wellington without asking the Govt, Kash Patel gifted them 3D printed gun (which is illegal so had to be destroyed).

The NZ Govt has in the past 12 months gutted legislation and provisions which would prevent a resource grab, opening even the most sacred and ecologically fragile places throughout the country up for capitalist exploitation. No need to invade, the colonial occupiers run Parliament.

DrALJONES

2026-01-31 23:50:36

Interview: "Trump Seeks Vassal States Across the World"

Following the US abduction of Venezuela's Pres Maduro, the interim pres, Delcy Rodriguéz, "has agreed to submit a monthly budget to the Trump administration, which will release money from an account funded by oil sales."

Rodriguéz is “governing under the blade", says historian Greg Grandin.

Trump plans "to run the country as a vassal state."

democracynow.org/2026/1/30/lat…

#USPol #EUpol #CdnPoli #Press #Venezuela #USImperialism #racism .

“Hostile Takeovers”: As U.S. Claims Venezuela’s Oil, Trump Seeks “Vassal States” Across the World

In the aftermath of the abduction of Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro and his wife Cilia Flores, Venezuela has agreed to submit a monthly budget to the Trump administration, which will release money from an account funded by oil sales.

^{Democracy Now!}

Kat stared into the disassembled device. This was the third time today he’d disassembled it. Each time, with methodical care, He took it apart to put it back together, in the interest of figuring out what it was for.

Some time ago he had the fortune to spend some time with a monk. He had arrived in the tiny town between Heaven and Sun City with very little besides his canteen to his name, which was at that time, The Cat, which was not a name as much as a descriptor. He had been told to go to the monk’s place at the west end of town. The desert sun beat down on him as he crossed the town, which wasn’t so much a town as a broad suggestion of habitation, with roads that suggested people could be _over there_ or _over there_ He arrived to find a squat cinderblock building, the top of the front door and entry room several feet over the top of the flat roof, which was tiled with solar panels. Windows ringed the perimeter of the building, with solar panel awnings above them at approximately waist height.

On knocking at the door, the monk had opened it, and smiled widely, as though The Cat was an old friend, rather than a six foot tall product of experimental bioengineering with jet black fur, tail, pointy ears arising out of the top of his head, and a face somewhere between that of a cat’s face and a person’s face, in a way that very few people were equipped to describe. Cat expected people to treat him like this because this was, in point of fact, exactly what he was. He could feel the sun baking his black fur, and his fur stuck to him under his gym shorts, his one concession to decency rejected by the rest of his being.

“How can I help you, dear friend?” the monk had asked with sincerity and kindness that The Cat was unprepared for. To be fair to him, he was not prepared for anything except to be turned away, so hadn’t thought to come up with a reason to be invited inside.

“I’m... I don’t know why I’m here.”

“Excellent! You can join me, then!” the monk replied, ushering The Cat into the entryway. On stepping over the threshold, the monk led The Cat down several steps into the main space of the house. He looked up at the somewhat low ceiling, high enough to have plenty of space to stand, and low enough to put his palms flat on the ceiling with his feet flat on the floor; or at least, as flat on the floor as his feet were these days. The space inside was significantly cooler than it was outside.

The windows that ringed the building at ground to knee height were inside at head to ceiling height. He stepped closer to one of the windows and looked straight out, his chin level with the ground, and chuckled to himself, thinking that this must be how cats saw the world all the time.

For the first time in a while, he contemplated himself.

“I don’t know what my purpose is,” The Cat said out loud, half to himself, half to the room, and a sliver to the monk he knew to be somewhere behind him.

“Oh, that’s easy!” The Cat spun around to face him, failed, and realized a moment later, looking downward, that the monk was kneeling on a cushion sipping tea in front of a table in the middle of the room that could be mistaken for a very wide and broad stepstool. The monk continued, “The purpose of anything is what it does!”

The Cat’s mind turned inwards. He saw things inside himself that he struggled to recognize. The room spun, and he fell to his knees. “What have I done?” he said out loud to himself, barely above a whisper.

The monk frowned over his tea, “Oh, that’s very difficult,”

#writing #solarpunk